


borrowed floors

by 2000loverboy



Series: The Exodus Institute [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Broken Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Kim Jongin | Kai, Character Death, Childhood Trauma, Dark Fantasy, Dystopia, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, MAMA Era Powers (EXO), Magical Realism, OT9 (EXO), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad with a Happy Ending, Shy Do Kyungsoo | D.O
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:46:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28703127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2000loverboy/pseuds/2000loverboy
Summary: As the infamous Exodus institute is shut down for human rights violations, the victims reflect on their lives within the confines of the asylum. Kyungsoo was a child of the Exodus experience, and as he adjusts to normalcy--he reminisces of those who were with him, before and after.
Relationships: Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Kim Jongin | Kai
Series: The Exodus Institute [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2104017
Comments: 16
Kudos: 9





	1. Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyungsoo begins to spiral through memories, with the help of Kim Jongin.

________

It was everlastingly gray within the walls of Exodus, gray like the underbelly of the sky or the sole of a downtrodden shoe, the shade of shadow and earth; immortalized in concrete and the hallways that rang like tin as the students walked, moving through the veins of the institute with the remnants of childhood on their faces. Some were about the ages of budding flowers--in the redolent dusk, uniformed and fresh in the face of obedient partings. Exodus was of no subtle stature, making itself known with four high risen buildings and a tall tower stated in the center where patrols would be shifted in and out throughout the hours. Sometimes, out in the yard, Kyungsoo would stare up past the sunlight and see one of guards in their black jumpsuits, pacing like a obsidian-shaped specter that haunted the premise.

The days of youth, as Kyungsoo looked back on them, seemed to spiral and fly like desaturated scraps of dreams and nightmares, between the limited age of ten to twenty it was nothing more than the static in his brain and the occasional flash--like someone took a photograph--sending him years back in time where he was a boy in a navy suit. A boy with eyes like bright onyx and lips sewn into a tight heart, bruises of tender lavender kissing the skin on his knees and elbows like he was born with them marking the soft tissue. As a man in his late twenties breaching adulthood within the confines of Seoul, it was strange to wake up every morning and see his skin clear of the retched brandings. The shackles of his past no longer on his body and forever in the dark of his eyelids and the images that appeared before bed.

"You're safe now." The officer had told him with the strength of a madman as he hauled him upward onto his shoulder, carrying him out of the institute with no hesitance, no hesitance at all. Even when Kyungsoo had fought back for an unknown reason and yelled for help. As Kyungsoo was loaded into the carrier by the man, the older man hadn't looked back. Not the way Kyungsoo had through the small tinted window to watch the way his whole life got smaller and smaller in the distance. There was another officer next to him, or possibly some kind of medic, who sat beside him and set a heavy hand on his shoulder. "You're okay now. You won't have to go through anything like that ever again" They said as he had cried. He wasn't sure then if he was crying because of something so simple, or if it was more than that. Could someone miss the ache and sting of a scar? Kyungsoo wasn't sure. He wasn't sure of anything other than the fact that he was alone, and everything he had ever known was through the vehicle door and stretched across the open country.

He remembered seeing it in the papers. Every outlet had latched onto the topic, spreading information around like wildfire: EXODUS SHUT DOWN IN EMERGENCY LOCKDOWN.

The rest was a little disorienting and faded.

Kyungsoo slowly drove downhill and quickly parked in the far left of the lot. He was outside a local bar, a small one that he found at the unmentionable age of twenty one when freedom greeted him with an open palm and lowball drinks. He sat still and pulled down the roof mirror to stare at his face before going inside. He was so aged now, in subtle ways like the corners of his eyes and the filling of his jaw, ways where he was healthier, warmer in his tone and convalescent in his presence. He wondered if Jongin would recognize him now. Sighing, he pushed the mirror up and got out of the drivers seat, shutting the door with a grating swing.

Seeing Jongin inside sitting on a velvet stool was more of an otherworldly sight than he cared to admit. The man was grown. His cheekbones sat high on his bronze face, wrinkled with a lopsided smile and a weary gaze. Different than the one he had years ago. It was a filled glance that graced over Kyungsoo as he walked in, tucking into himself and bowing as their eyes met. Soft lounge music was playing over the speakers above them as the shorter propped up on the closest seat and wheeled it slightly away to keep a distance.

"Kyungsoo-Hyung." Jongin whispered, as if his name was as breakable as glass. "It's been so long. How are you?" He was holding a drink in his hand, half empty and melted. Most of it had turned to water now.

"I'm alright. It has been awhile." Kyungsoo felt words rise and fall in his throat as he observed the other in front of him. Closer up, Jongin deeply resembled someone of great status. He never imagined him wearing a pressed coat or sport branded loafers. It was almost humorous. He waved a hand at the bartender passing by and ordered a gin, feeling the latter's eyes trace every inch of his profile as he did so. As he swiveled back around to face the other, the man began to make his drink over the counter, "Were you here long?" He asked with an eyebrow raise.

"No. I wasn't. I did have a few drinks though, if you don't mind." Jongin chuckled uncomfortably, choosing to look at the marbled wood below his arm rather than the direction Kyungsoo sat. He brought up a quick hand to brush his bangs off of his forehead, and the smaller could see the gleam of a Rolex around his wrist. "I don't usually drink, but..."

"I get it." Kyungsoo filled the gap and gave the worker a small nod as he was handed the gin over ice. He could tell Jongin was trying hard to keep his face still. His plush lips were pulled into a tight smile, and it didn't meet his downcast eyes. Clearing his throat, the smaller lifted the glass to his lips. "You look different."

"Different?" Jongin perked up. It made him appear younger under the harsh bar lighting.

"I mean, not different. Just older. You look like...healthy. I don't know how to explain it, really. You look good."

"I look like a normal functioning person? Is that what you're trying to say?" His mouth curved up into a glimpse of something genuine, as far as Kyungsoo could tell, anyway.

"I don't mean it in a rude way." The smaller finally sipped at the liquor, concealing a shiver at the familial bite it gave him. It tasted like his own blood in his teeth.

"I know you didn't. You never do." Jongin softened visibly, finally meeting Kyungsoo's gaze as he imbibed at the rim of his cup. With some of his teeth showing, Kyungsoo could tell he didn't have them fixed from before. He recalled seeing Baekhyun's profile on social media a few years after the shutdown and observing how the other had transformed before his very eyes, his jawline sharp and nose more prominent. It was kind of a relief to see Jongin remain as the Jongin he knew. If his hair was a little longer and unbridled, he would almost look the same.

"What about me? Do I look like the same kid from a million years ago?" He asked before he could hold his tongue.

"Hm. Only some parts of you." The latter tapped two fingers on the flat-wood. "Your eyes are similar, same with your nose and lips. But you have gotten more fit, less of a little skinny flower boy and more of a man." He leaned back on the stool as if gravity couldn't touch him, "A handsome man. I'm jealous."

"Jealous." Kyungsoo blew air out his nose. Formalities seemed to be a foreign concept between them, even in that moment—it was alarmingly casual. "Yeah right, you're like a whole super model now. Don't think I didn't see the hair gel and watch, Jongin-ah."

"I just got lucky."

"Lucky, huh?" The smaller parroted, glancing up at one of the televisions overhead. It was playing some kind of news cast, the subtitles moving like rapid fire as they spoke, voices muffled by the pub noise. "I did too. We all did."

"Not all of us." Jongin said. Kyungsoo could tell he regretted it the moment it left his mouth, because the taller then seemed to collect himself again, hoisting himself up straight and fiddling with the condensation over his glass. He furrowed his brows, "I'm sorry...I don't know why I felt the need to say that. That's behind us now, isn't it?"

Kyungsoo took another sip, "I guess."

"How long has it been since we left that place?"

"Five years? I'm pretty sure it's been about five." He set down the drink and pressed his lips flat at the taste. "I was twenty when it shut down. So you were about—"

"Nineteen." Jongin nodded with an infinite sadness, as if the memories had come back all at once over his face. He turned his focus to Kyungsoo's hand rested on the table and subconsciously reached for it, stopping and letting his fingers fall instead. "You have a ring on. You're married?"

Kyungsoo wondered if Jongin forgot about how much time they spent apart. From the way the taller seemed to lean his body forward and want to seek imaginary warmth. Jongin was always an affectionate man, or more so, a needy child trapped in the body of a statuesque tragedy. The taller was pushing boundaries with feathery touches, having the decency to act like they were there in the first place. The smaller stuck out his hand over Jongin's lap to show him the silver band, simultaneously crossing the line of intimacy and informal sense.

"Not married, it's a gift from my parents. Specifically my mom. I think it was supposed to be some kind of apology." He explained.

The other smiled and took Kyungsoo's hand within his own to flip it over and read the engraving. His touch was hot, clammy as he ran a thumb over it and mouthed the words to himself. Jongin then let the smaller take it back with no resistance and no more warmth.

"It's beautiful. It's a nice gift."

"Yeah, I could tell when they found out about all the shit that happened it really put them into shock. There were days where my mom would come into my room crying, just...just asking for me to forgive her." He swallowed and pivoted to face the bar, vulnerability spilling through his lips in intervals of quiet desperation. He tossed back the rest of the gin as Jongin watched. "It wasn't her fault, and I would tell her that all the time but she didn't believe me. How was anyone supposed to know? Only we knew...and even then..."

"Hyung." Jongin interrupted, sliding off the seat. He motioned towards the door, "I think we should talk somewhere else. Somewhere private like in your car or something." He then dipped forward to Kyungsoo's ear. "People are looking. They might figure out who we are."

"It happens I guess." Kyungsoo dismissed, his ears ringing at the silence compared to how rowdy the bar was seconds ago. It was inevitable sometimes, living in the biggest city in Korea as someone who had their youthful face in the news and circulating social media. All of their names and profiles displayed for the public eye to see, all of their history and lives written in the pages of forums. _Exodus had been a human rights violation, a sick government ploy to use special forces for their own personal gain_ —the articles read. _These poor children had their lives stolen by the selfishness of their country._

Do Kyungsoo, Kim Jongin, Byun Baekhyun, Park Chanyeol, Kim Jongdae, Kim Minseok, Kim Junmyeon, Oh Sehun, and Zhang Yixing were the names on the cover. Bold, outlined and highlighted on the front page with action shots taken by journalists, showcasing the skinniness and sunken in faces of the children rescued first. All Korean, with one Chinese child who escaped the torturous restraints of asylum, _the most shameful crime in the last decade._

If Kyungsoo could explain what life behind the Exodus gate was like, it would be more difficult than anything. It would be floorboards under ripped rugs and the smell of bleach under nails, possibly the ache in his muscle after being told to march and stand in place, or possibly something more. Like the feeling of insatiable solitude under the sheets of his old bed, lips chapped in the brunt of winter.

Exodus was created for nothing other than for the containment of gifted children, for the purpose of raising them to benefit society. In simpler terms, it was some kind of boot camp set up by conniving government members to exploit the moldable minds of youth and profit. It truly was, as simple as that. Where it got a tad more muddled was where the concept of "powers" came in. Each one of these kids came from around parts of Asia, scouted by those with an eye for the extraordinary. The promise of money was the most powerful thing in all the under-the-table dealings, over any kind of magic or sixth sense. Exodus would pay the families well, sickeningly well, to keep their sons in Korea for a number of unspecified years. Or however long they "deemed fit" until they would be cast into the world again. Sometimes, more often than not, they were never cast out again.

Kyungsoo noticed his abilities at the ripe age of eight during moments of his juvenile rage. He could be stronger than the other kids at times, where he'd split the dirt walkways in two or leave a hand shaped mark among classmates skin. He was well behaved most of the time, and nearly silent, yet he caught the attention of those who paid attention. For him, Exodus spotted him right away in his hometown of Goyang, located right in the heart of Seoul, and did enough convincing to take him back with them, with the promise of giving him a great future and enough support to keep his family rich for life. Just like that, his parents signed the agreement and he was Exodus's property.

Even now, he wondered how well spoken the members of the company would have had to been to dodge the suspicion of their cause. Though, with the justice system in their pocket it wasn't much work to have people keep their name a secret. Nor was it work to give desperate parents fake solace about their "special" child. A child that wouldn't fit in with society otherwise. In theory, it seemed beneficial to have their freakish children be used for the good of the country instead of being a target their whole lives. Little did they know, they were a target they second they were born.

Kyungsoo's powers were labeled under the ambiguous guise of "strength" and "earth". He was called number twelve, which was tattooed on the soft part of his wrist in black english numerals. It had hurt and he cried under the needle, and when he was finished and glowering at his ten year old face in the mirror, the Exodus member merely told him to wipe his tears and enter the next room. In the hallway there were other kids his age, round faced stained with tears of their own and ink wrapped with plastic. 

He shared a room with two other Korean kids, which happened to be Park Chanyeol and Kim Jongin, otherwise known as sixty-one and eighty-eight. They were much taller than him, with long black bangs and the same kind of fear behind their pupils that wavered and avoided contact. Kyungsoo had gotten the single bed, while the others shared a bunk-bed on the opposite side of the cramped chamber. There was no privacy, and no decorations on the steely embankment. Park Chanyeol had been the first to speak, small suitcase in hand as he wandered the space and used his large deer eyes to survey the paneling and bed frames. 

"I'm Chanyeol." He had said, a innocence gracing his bright features that weren't yet tainted. He had more weight on him back then, which he would come to lose in time from stress and overdone training. "How old are you?"

Kyungsoo, still shaking and hovering small fingers over his new wrist wound, said nothing.

"He just misses his mom." Jongin piped up from on top of the bunk, peering over with swollen eyes of his own, voice flat.

"We all miss our parents, but we'll see them soon. If we do good we can go back home." Chanyeol moved to the floor where he opened his suitcase and took out a polaroid of what must have been his family. He had an older sister that had a similar face. He was still smiling, "My mom said that I'm already good at keeping my secret under control, so I should be home in a month."

That had caught Jongin's attention and he leaned over the railing to watch the boy unpack, "H-How do you control it?"

"I just do. When I feel my hands heat up I just tuck them in my pockets and tell it to go away."

"Heat? You can shoot fire?" 

"Yeah, I've only done it once and it was an accident. I burned my dad, which is why they said I had to go here to get more training. I don't want to hurt anymore people. But they said it won't take long." He got up and walked to the singular opening, tucking the photograph behind the crevice. "I can be like a superhero when I get back. I'll show off to all my friends."

As the visualization of the small room left his mind, he was well aware of his presence at the bar, silent as Jongin sat beside him with his brows furrowed in concern. Kyungsoo then followed the man out of the door and across the asphalt to his vehicle.

They were both silent as they sat inside, Jongin adjusting the seat settings in quiet fixation. As the chair clicked and moved back, He turned to look at the smaller through his eyelashes. "Sorry. The bartender was giving us weird looks, so I thought it was for the best that we left." He said.

"It's fine. I was venting, anyway."

"Don't beat yourself up. I asked to meet up with you so we could talk. You're the only one that agreed to see me after the shut down."

The smaller spun around, " _Really?_ "

Jongin sighed out a chuckle heavy in concealed bitterness, as he took both sides of his brown coat and tucked them under his arms, "Yeah. I think they're afraid of talking about the past, afraid I might bring it up and force them to relive the last decade or explain to me where they went. I can't say I blame them. Even seeing your face, Soo, I'm reminded."

The nickname caught him off guard and sent a pang of nostalgia down his chest, and not the bad kind for once. He let his lips rise into a dry grin, "Yeah, to be honest it _has_ been a little hard to look at you and not see the Jongin with long shaggy hair."

Kim Jongin was an eye-catching boy, all golden and angular in places where the sun hit in the blistering summers. Kyungsoo remembered seeing him in the yard during his breaks, usually walking with Oh Sehun _(number ninety-four)_ through the rows of orchids that peeked through the dirt pathways. Even when he returned to the room with dark circles and his ribs peeking through his shirt, he was beautiful. When he spoke about things he was articulate and thoughtful, being one of the only kids who didn't tease him too harshly for being mute.

Jongin supposedly could "teleport", the mysterious phenomenon in which he could appear in the blink of an eye whenever he was needed. He was deemed quite important to Exodus, who had high hopes he could eventually be an outstanding war weapon or military spy. Kyungsoo didn't personally know why the other was there until one night Jongin had materialized within thin air to retrieve his jacket from the hook, and then dissipate into nothingness. The smaller had been scared shitless by it, and Chanyeol merely laughed at his expression. 

Currently drawing in the fog of his window, Jongin was still beautiful. He always would be. 

The other then smirked at Kyungsoo's comment, this time it reached his eyes and turned them into crescents. He shook his head against the headrest, "God, I really did skip out on a lot of haircuts, didn't I? I had a mullet for so long."

"It suited you. Though I have to say, you look a lot less crazy with your hair pushed back like that."

"What about you? You're nearly bald." Jongin teased, placing a hand on Kyungsoo's short raven locks and ruffling it up.

" _Aish..._ " He pushed him off with a smile. "My mom says she likes my hair short."

"That's what all moms say." He retreated back into his seat with evident fondness, which then lowered into a deep pondering look. He hesitated before commenting, "You're really close with her now, aren't you? You and your mom."

"Yeah, my father too, but I think the guilt was different for him. When he read the article on what happened all those years, he never spoke to me about it. He just had these hard lines on his face and a weight over his shoulders. I think it was too hard for him to address the whole thing, even when my mother openly did." He explained, "What about your parents?"

"Well, It's a little different than that. My father had passed away when I was still there, I had no way of knowing since, you know, Exodus would go through our letters and stuff. I don't think they wanted me to use it as a reason to get pulled out of the program so they hid them from me. When we were freed and I went home, he was just gone and my mother was crying. She was crying because of me, but because of him too. It was a really insane time for my family, and I didn't know how to function for a long time because of it." Jongin swallowed down a lump in his throat.

"I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about, It was just another thing that Exodus stole from me." He suddenly took Kyungsoo's hand and squeezed it. He wasn't smiling anymore, "What they stole from us."

The smaller pressed back, "I read your book."

"So you knew?"

"I did, but I still wanted you to tell me. A book isn't the same as talking after being separated for years."

Jongin intertwined their fingers over the inner console, "You're right. How did you like it? I kept everyone's identities as private as I could, but of course media pieced things together and harassed you all for a bit. I'm sorry for that."

"It's alright. When I fell off the grid it wasn't personal, or a decision to avoid you. The success with your book is well deserved, and a perspective that's important to have out in a world that makes their own assumptions and conspiracy theories. You opened Korea's eyes to the personal realities we all had. I was proud and I still am."

"I'm proud of you too." Jongin was so warm against the overcast peering in. His hand slipped away and hid itself back under his coat, "You talk so much more, now."

"Yeah, therapy played a big role in that. I found a good therapist a couple months ago. Funnily enough, she says I have the tendency to overshare. I think it was just from being so quiet back then. My mind was always buzzing. Now I let things out to avoid it."

"That must have been hard." Jongin frowned.

"It was." Kyungsoo's hand was freezing now and he tucked it under his clothed thigh. He felt antsy sitting here, like he had things to do. Like he had to bring Jongin somewhere. In a moment of hurriedness he pushed his keys into the ignition, "Did you drive here?" He questioned.

"I took an Uber."

"Good." Kyungsoo turned it on and moved the stick shift into reverse, pulling out. "You want to get out of here?"

"Where to?" Jongin was trying to click his seatbelt.

"I think we..." Kyungsoo rolled up to the intersection and felt the rumble of the engine below his feet. His heart was thumping, "I'm not trying to sound crazy. But I think we should visit what's left."

He didn't have to elaborate, but Jongin did take a moment to think. His attention was back through the aperture as he whispered, "Let's go."

___________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an experiment :) I'm gonna try and make this a long series and go into depth as I go on.


	2. alabaster rays

**\-----**

"How come you're here?" The slim boy pestered one morning, leaning forward with both elbows on the brick seating where Kyungsoo would reside every day for lunch in the fleeting sunlight. The boy was skinny and had floppy hair that was always shielding a bit too much of his eyes, almond shaped and twinkling with hidden curiosity. His wrist had one numeral on it, just the simple curves of a 'four' that had been itched and obviously peeled at. 

Kyungsoo didn't say anything and instead just scooted away, feeling the hard slab dig into the back of his knees as he hugged it in shy qualm. 

"He probably doesn't know Korean, Baekhyun-ah, you can't just ask random kids that." An older boy of similar stature stood behind him, with dark eyebrows framing a timid expression. He moved down to grab the back of Number Four's collar and yank up, forcing him on his feet. The other just laughed, loud and volatile, and ran off to have the other chase him like a frantic one-sided game. It was in that moment that Kyungsoo had an impression of the other, which was rare, since he had only ever remembered a few boys that lived here, two being his own living partners. Baekhyun was forever a exigency that was the blur of white teeth and noise. He was one of the only ones that openly smiled, and the only one in Kyungsoo's humble opinion, that suited his power: Light.

Exodus had been split up into sections depending on the language and cultural differences, since many of the kids came from all over the East. It was how Kyungsoo came to know the local children that lived in his high-rise building and sat with him in the spacious and terribly empty veranda, under the crumbling roof. With its high ceilings and sealed windows, the veranda was a place of woe and repetitive owing. 

The days inside the asylum would rotate like clockwork, ticking into each second, minute and hour with no time to waste and nothing to do but what they're told. Exodus employees were always suited up to their eyes with gear and coverings to seal their identity, protecting themselves with the machinery and artillery that was only visible on the third story of their complex. As the weeks flew by, they developed a schedule set up for each boy, for each day--torridly moving like the power inside of the children was transitory and limited. There were physicals consistently, where they would test blood pressure and heart rate, check for any irregularities within the mortal figure, weaknesses in their constitution. Everything had to be documented, to their diet to their allergies and everything in between. Free-will was a mere concept on the children's tongues, and a slapdash memory that felt more like a dream. Once the operative had a profile typed out in deep files, they began testing for _triggers_.

Those were the tests that Kyungsoo had blocked out the most. 

There was a human nature that was blocked by the illusion of rules and morality, internally disturbed in the Exodus workers. There were no eyes to watch them and no punishment that awaited if they got carried away or if they decided to take matters into their own hands. The barricades of the institute shielded out saintliness, and every morsel of humanity left within their desolate souls. They were monsters, frankly put, disguised in white plastic and eye coverings because they knew what they were doing was corrupt. They knew what they were, and that was why they hid, and why they burned Exodus to the ground once the world caught wind of the hellscape within. They were the demonic figures Kyungsoo saw as he tried to sleep, and the ones that clutched his throat in manic hysteria every dawn.

Baekhyun, sporting the most bruises and cuts out of all the sorry souls in his unit, was always smiling unceasingly. 

"The white jackets have a field day with him." Xiumin, _number ninety-nine_ , said one afternoon as he sat on Chanyeol's bedside. He was one of the older kids, yet he had nothing intimidating about his cat-like eyes and demure, which was why it was easy to speak outwardly and informally to him. He had gauze over his knuckles as he spoke, "He's rowdy and likes to make trouble for them, so he gets punished. I don't know why he does it because we all stopped laughing awhile ago."

"He'd be able to leave sooner if he just kept his mouth shut." Chanyeol muttered, picking something invisible off of his bare foot as he leaned against the futon. Chanyeol had learned his lesson long ago, when he cracked during a test and returned out of the room with a purple bash on his skull. Kyungsoo remembered that day well, because it was the first time there was utter silence when the tall boy entered the room, and he had fallen asleep to his muffled cries.

"Maybe he has no one to go back to, so he just doesn't care." Xiumin shrugged.

"What eleven year old doesn't have a family?"

"He's twelve, and plus, who's to say he's not some kind of orphan? Maybe the white jackets searched all the foster homes and stuff."

"Maybe..."

"What do you think, Kyungsoo?" Xiumin directed the conversation at him. It wasn't the only time the eldest had done so, but for some reason he always had hope he would reply. Kyungsoo never did.

"He doesn't talk, Hyung, I told you." Chanyeol groaned and laid flat against the linen. 

"One of these days he'll crack, he'll get so bored he'll have to talk to us."

With that, Kyungsoo got up and left to wander the yard.

Honestly, he was a bit curious to know if Baekhyun had a family. He was sure he did, but it further pushed his suspicion as to why he was trying to stay longer. Why would he endure all the pain and markings from the white coats, just to limp out with a beaming face into his room down the corridor? He was truly a mystery, and yet Kyungsoo also had the feeling that he was actually just an open book--waiting to be read.

The yard was not a popular place, even though it was the only shared space between the four statures, and the only place that had all the children intermingle from different units. It was a way the smaller could get a breath of fresh air and observe some of the other numbers from the Chinese division do their duties and converse. There was one foreigner that Kyungsoo watched the most when he walked the circular avenue, though he wasn't sure of the other's name. The number on his wrist was hard to spot from yards away, and yet he had an aura about him, one that made him stand out from the rest. One factor was that he was the only gardener. There was an untouched fenced area that was just plain soil when they moved in, that had gradually turned into thick foliage and a sweet scent in the air, contrasting with the stink of metal and dryness Exodus harbored. The boy would tend to the flowers every time he was free, giving Exodus it's only kiss of life in a field of death.

As Kyungsoo would pace and examine, he noticed Baekhyun would visit the garden as well, using his gift to part the clouds and have the beams shed lambency amongst the leaves and meek blossoms. Then, he'd be out of sight before the mysterious Chinese boy could walk down the stairs and see. The boy would always grin with a dimple, and continue his way in the terra.

One night, after another cycle in monotony, Kyungsoo could not sleep. Having been in bed, it seemed, for ages, He dropped into a lethargy, only after a while vaguely seeing the underside of the door flicker, and the sound of electricity click and crack through the hall. Having squinted his eyes in search of a silhouette outside, He tossed back the blanket, slinked out of bed, and headed for the door. When he left the room, He recognized the long corridor of the second floor in its creepy and ambient night. It was dark and cold, and the silver light of the moon was hidden behind layers of clouds. There was a figure in the near distance that he could see if he narrowed his eyes and stood still. Someone had their arm raised and was sucking the orbs of light from the hanging bulbs, sending them flying like magic, and inserting them back behind the tinged glass. It created an effect of momentary blindness every-time the light was stolen, and he had half a mind to feel somewhat put-off by it. It messed with his focus, and he was reeling from the lack of rest.

It was against protocol to be out this late, and it was especially against protocol to use powers outside of the test rooms like he was. Immediately, he knew who the culprit was: Number Four, smirking between the flashes of starlight within his fingers. On impulse, he opened his mouth to say something--but was beat to it, by Jongin, who was at his side scarily quick.

"Mess with the lights on your own floor!" He reprimanded, fists clenched at his sides. Kyungsoo could see the exhaustion under his eyelids in the dimness.

With the eerie sound of a guffaw, it was pitch black, and then the lights slowly grew back inside the confines of the nodules--with Baekhyun gone.

As the cool toned lights came to fruition, Jongin peered down at him. "Can't sleep?" He inquired after a small eternity. Kyungsoo shook his head, and let the taller boy sling an arm over his shoulder and direct him back into the shared room. He laid awake then, thinking, asking the question that had been on his mind the point he had met the sorcerer of light. What did Baekhyun know, that the rest of them didn't?

The irony is that Kyungsoo saw Baekhyun through and through that twilight. In the heart of the young boy lived an idealistic fraud. A frustrated and lost martyr who was on the lookout for someone else to figure it out. To put the pieces together and realize what realm they were truly in within the confines of Exodus. He knew the white jackets wouldn't kill him, they wouldn't dare to, they couldn't imagine a world where they could sacrifice such a commodity, so Baekhyun made it hard for them. The next day after Jongin had finished combat training, he sat beside Kyungsoo in the yard with a mislaid grin on his youthful face. Kyungsoo had finished his own testing beforehand, and they had matching bandages lined across their hands and joints. The taller had leaned down and whispered, "I found out about Baekhyun's family."

Kyungsoo's eyes widened at the news, and he met Jongin halfway as the other bent parallel to his ear once more. "He was in the same training room as me, and they were going over some kind of tactic of how he could, like, use his surroundings to his advantage. I guess he was being a pain so they said something about his parents. He must have family if they tried to use it against him, right?"

Kyungsoo blinked and shrugged, a million questions flying around his mind. _If he had a family, why was he doing this to himself?_

"Maybe he's just crazy. It's not like every single kid here is normal. What's normal about having powers anyways? I couldn't imagine not wanting to see your family though..."

Kyungsoo noticed that Jongin always had longingness about him. He talked of home a lot, more than any of the other children there, to the point where he could say his sister's names in a sentence and everyone would know who he was talking about. He yearned to go home, and he ached to see his friends and family so bad it was torture. At Exodus, everything was torture, but for Jongin--It was heaven if he could at least see them. Kyungsoo wondered why the other was not able to visit his family in secret bouts of teleportation, but never asked. That was where Number Four came in again, fitting like another puzzle shard in the fragmentation of their existence. Baekhyun had told him, once, in a coincidental meeting within a test room, that the tattoos on their skin were actually tracking devices.

"They can find us, anywhere, whenever they want to." He dug a finger into the emblem and moved it around as if feeling for something microscopic. His skin was flayed and scarred over the number. Kyungsoo had looked away at the jarring scene and tried to process the other's words. Baekhyun, perplexedly amused, barked out a characteristic laugh and grabbed the smaller's arm, twisting it over to read the symbol before Kyungsoo bolted out of his seat and stood with fire in his veins.

"Nice to meet you, Number Twelve."

Kyungsoo bit at his lips, itching to yell at the other. He was supposed to be in his chair waiting to be called inside the cubicle, and for the first time he had broken the rules in an act of adrenaline. 

"Sit down, there's no point in getting upset over being touched." Baekhyun clicked his tongue and eyed the door as the white jackets shuffled on the other side. He motioned for the smaller to return to the chair, "I know you're ripping me to shreds inside your head. Your eyes are very expressive, you know."

He was upright for only another moment, before he jumped down, the door swinging open to reveal the familial view of achromic devils. As Kyungsoo was beckoned forward, Baekhyun watched with his prying and knowing grin. It gave Kyungsoo a sinking feeling in his stomach as he was led inside.

He did not remember what happened the second after he laid on the table, but like every day, he awoke in his room with bandages and bruises decorating his body like ornaments. His muscles felt pummeled as he sat up, so he didn't, and instead just let himself writhe against the napery in disquiet. Sometimes he was happy that his brain let him forget, as if to give him temporary relief, so he couldn't look back on minutes ago and lose what sanity he had left. His eyes closed, and before slumber took him away, a tear had fallen, unnoticed in the night-time.

Byun Baekhyun must've been concurrently the most liked and disliked in Exodus. He was the one who informed everyone of changes, playing the role of some kind of insider, always keeping sharp eyes on the white coats that talked a little too loudly, ignorant of the fact that not all twelve year-olds were docile and resigned. He absorbed all of their secrets, giving the other children time to prepare for "surprise" tests, or new methods of training. He had saved Kyungsoo's selfhood many times in the early daybreaks, waking the smaller up with a shake and pearly grin, always beat up, always quick with his injuction and departure as he dumped a series of caution over him. Kyungsoo was never sure why the other was helping but he wouldn't complain, especially if it meant less pain the following schedule. As most of the boys were afraid to be spotted with the notorious agitator, he was alone in his journey of prowess, never upset and never blaming anyone for not wanting to step up to the white monsters. Even at twenty five, Kyungsoo could never imagine such bravery.

He remembered his face when the shutdown commenced in all its chaos, for it was Baekhyun who was with him when the agents came barreling through the doors with their equipment and communicative devices blaring. Number Four had met his expression of fear with one of pure enlightenment, almost like two different situations were under way between the both of them. There was the sensation of heat all around, and that's when he was taken, and Baekhyun had been pulled the other direction. He swore he heard the sound of laughter, like when they were eleven and he would steal all the lights from the precinct, echoing from down the flaming ingress.

After Kyungsoo had been home for a year and the papers had began to simmer down from the anarchy, Kyungsoo had asked his mother how he could find what happened to everyone. She offered that he should attempt to find their names on social media, just to see if they had any. Most of the Exodus refugees didn't, because the platform would be swarmed with numerous strangers asking and wanting more of the story. The only one who did, was Baekhyun. He hadn't messaged him, silent as always, and instead crawled into his bed and sobbed. Even after everything, Kyungsoo held his tongue.

Through the entire shared decade, he wasn't sure he said one word to the boy, but now he could say numerous things. Baekhyun was a unappreciated hero, and he saved them. He was someone who liked to tell jokes to no-one in particular, and he liked to sing even more. During the darkest nights, his voice had carried itself through the walls of Exodus in mournful song. To Kyungsoo, and the rest of them, they were prayers.

The papers had informed everyone that Baekhyun's parents had been the ones to relentlessly expose Exodus for what it was, not letting any authority shut them up as they harassed government officials and the police department. An attempt at a cover-up commenced, stating that all of the children had just been labeled as "missing" and the parents had banded together in conspiracy, mourning the losses of their son's, but as years flew by, the cause gained traction and had showed up in articles and online news-sources. It was the last straw when Baekhyun's father had evidence of Exodus's contract and the pension they received, which had been a farce and the contract had been obviously capitalized. Korea couldn't quiet them, and it led to the disarray of the shutdown. Baekhyun must have known the whole time that hope still had them in it's grasp, which was how he survived as long as he did. It was also how the nine of them got out.

Kyungsoo took a left onto an offramp, accelerating to beat oncoming traffic to get ahead. The space inside of the car felt like a bubble, moving at a different speed and plane of reality than the rest of the spinning world. Jongin was curling into himself, just letting Kyungsoo drive like they were in an emergency situation, unspoken tension suffocating the two of them. He cleared his throat as they moved towards Uijeongbu, "I don't think there's going to be much there, and if there is it's going to be blocked off. I can't even imagine how people tried to explore it after it burned down."

Kyungsoo loosened his white-knuckle grip on the wheel, "I know it's probably just remains, but I feel like I have to see it again." He peered over for a mere second, "Do you not want to go? It was just an impulse, so we don't have to. I can drop you off."

"It's okay. I should...probably see it one last time as well."

"I've never even gone this far outside of Seoul since I was freed." Kyungsoo said, turning on a blinker as he went right. 

"Really?" Jongin made a sound of question, "I find this city insufferable most of the time."

"Well, you can pretty much go anywhere, right?"

"I haven't used... _that_. I haven't used my powers for years."

The smaller fell into tight-lipped triviality, feeling at loss for words. Kyungsoo hadn't used his powers for anything other than helping his parents mend a part of the house or carry something heavy, so he wasn't sure why he was shocked at Jongin's response. Maybe it was because their abilities were so different, Kyungsoo was forever tied to the earth, grounded, while Jongin was the epitome of freedom. _If you could go anywhere you wanted, why wouldn't you?_

Jongin was looking at him and snapped him out of his daze, "You're quiet. I'm not upset at you for bringing it up, if that's what you think."

"I was just zoning out."

"I really don't like when you're quiet." He said in a hushed tone, brows pressed in poorly hidden anxiousness.

"Sorry." Kyungsoo tried not to let Jongin's brokenness seep into his bones as he kept his eyes on the road, "Did you ever talk to Baekhyun?"

It was a sudden question and he wasn't sure where it came from, maybe from out of his bleeding heart, or because of the way the clouds parted to let in the alabaster rays. Maybe it was from the fear of silence.

"A long while back, we actually went out for coffee." Jongin was doing that thing he did, where he had to reel himself back in, recollecting his dignity from the moment of weakness seconds ago. He sat up straight, running fingers through obsidian, "It was when he agreed to let me use his experiences for my book. It was a strange thing, because through those ten years in Exodus, we were never close, and yet--It wasn't hard to talk to him. We even laughed together. I didn't remember laughing like that after the shutdown, and somehow he just brought it out of me. It wasn't a long meetup, but he told me he was dedicating his whole life to exposing Exodus, and making sure nothing like that ever happened again."

"I feel like we owe him something." Kyungsoo began.

"I know."

Neither of them finished that thought as the sun lowered behind the buildings, creating pockets of darkness between the intervals of driving. The light never seemed temporary until it was, just like Baekhyun, who's body was found in the brush underneath an overpass bridge, two years ago. As Jongin would put it: _It was another thing Exodus stole from me--from us._


	3. the phoenix in our hearts

_________

Kyungsoo remembered thinking, looking at the gangly boy bent over him while he lay crumpled on the floor, that Chanyeol was the most broken one inside the asylum, mentally and physically. He was temper-mental, he was loud and neurotic, not nearly as vicious as the white coats, but not entirely one of _them_ either. Kyungsoo knew he was exploited until nothing was left of him. He was scraps of a child, and missing parts of a man. Under his tragedy, there a boy who was scared, and a boy who liked animals and simple things.

As the children within the borders of Exodus grew older, the white coats had begun new ways of experimentation, transforming into creatures of violence and impersonal quantity. At the age of fourteen, Kyungsoo was suddenly under the spotlight by their eyes. He was a boy with the gift, or curse, of incredible strength, and Exodus had upgraded his lifestyle from basic feats, to combat. The monsters of the institute had completely traded what humanity they had left for the hunger of war. When he was merely a small thing, he had faced pains varying from electroshock therapy to body limitations, and nothing was as excruciating as fighting his own brothers for the amusement of malignant spirits.

They seemed to have an affinity for the elemental bucks, pitting them against each-other and observing from behind a large glass screen in equal parts cowardice and infatuation. Ice and fire, wind and earth, water and electricity. Funnily enough, Kyungsoo knew all of his combatants better than any of the other boys in the radius. Nothing was more familiar than the sting of frost or the suffocating heat of a flaming blast shot at the skull, and he had learned to ignore the texture of blood on his tongue and the sound of bones hitting steel. He could hardly remember the day by nightfall, anyway, but alas, the one thing he never forgot, was the look on his roommates face as he furrowed his brows and shoved him to the floor with a churning ball of calefaction.

"You're holding back." Chanyeol spat, glowering down with his big black eyes. Flames were still dancing around his clenched fists.

Kyungsoo tasted iron and decided not to entertain the idea of an answer, laying there until the white coats sounded the timer to stop.

"Get up, Number Twelve." The connected intercom said instead. "We could see you hesitating to use your openings. Try again."

Holding back ghosts of tears, he slumped to the side and stood up. His pants were charred and torn open on the sides, matching with the collar of his shirt which was black with ashy cotton. It reached up to his jawline in red striped lines, now numb due to the fact that the sensation of burns had become a daily branding for him, usually until he was healed by Yixing in the garden.

The other didn't help him and instead put distance between them with two large steps backward, locking his body back into defensive position. He merely had some bruising from the other half covered by the fabric of his shirt. It was nothing compared to the state Kyungsoo was in.

As Kyungsoo hobbled onto his feet, he felt the heavy gazes of the Exodus workers through the window, the light from overhead reflecting off their gear. The timer sounded, and Chanyeol's whole right lit up in a quick blaze, lapping up his body and shadowing his face in menacing orange. An orb of heat was sent towards him and Kyungsoo jumped to dodge, colliding into the fortified ground once more. Another was thrown, and another, he was rolling now, the edges of his raven locks tinged with the embers as he flipped upright into a crouched position and dug his hands into the bolster. Two gratifying divots spread from his fingers and sunk the floor around Chanyeol, who stumbled and caught himself before he was sucked in. 

The smaller used both hands and curled them into fists, closing the opening at an inhuman speed and trapping the boy's lower half inside. Chanyeol grunted and Kyungsoo could see the steel come up red from where his grasp was, now clawing like a caged animal as the jagged ends dug into his waist with every turn. He stopped, only for a moment of mercy, before Chanyeol turned at him with his limited access and blasted him with another heat wave. Searing, sharp pain radiated through his body as he was pushed back, eyelashes blinking away smoke and the scent of flesh. He coughed, shutting his fists once more as he landed on his back, closing the earth around Chanyeol with a sickening crunch, and snap. 

The timer rang, and the door was opened as white coats flooded inside, lifting Kyungsoo up and dragging him out, the sounds of the other's screams echoing through the chamber. He had gone to bed that night in the hospice trapped under the thin blanket with no access to Yixing, and no access to see the aftermath. He assumed it would be like it was every time him and Chanyeol fought, where they would return to their room with knowing silence and blood on their palms. It was a sorrowful regression from when they were ten, when they weren't used as chess pieces for a devil's game, and when Chanyeol would engage him in lighthearted banter and the rare occasion of inclusivity. On the nights where the moon shone like a second sun, and Baekhyun sang, the taller would take Kyungsoo to the third story of their unit complex to see the horizon line.

"You can see things sometimes." He would say, pointing to nothing except the bushel and trees that hid any real view other than the sky. 

_Like what?_ Kyungsoo wanted to ask, but didn't. He kept his eyes raised and followed the boy's finger. The patrol officer could probably spot them from the outpost in the yard, but they weren't ever caught.

"One time, I saw an eagles nest in that tree right there. The tallest one." Chanyeol went on with a smile, one too big for his infantile face. "I wish I could fly. If I could, I would have been out of here by now and with my family. It's already been so long. I really wish I could fly."

Kyungsoo, as usual, was the archetype of taciturnity as Chanyeol then turned to peer down at him. Even that young, he looked tired.

"Since my power is...destruction. Do you think I'll ever be free?"

 _I'll be free, when you're free_. Kyungsoo shrugged and suddenly rushed to the railing, aiming a finger up at the sky. An eagle, in all it's elusiveness, was soaring north. It's wings were poignant and sharp against the air, cutting through it like it weighed no more than air itself. Kyungsoo was grinning before he knew it.

He wondered if Chanyeol took it as a sign, because he was beaming too, eyes wide and glimmering with hope.

Kyungsoo closed his eyes against the pillow, too in pain to pivot his body or adjust his sleeping position other than the occasional turn. He was casted up to his chin, leaving the exposed skin to be taped over with compresses or ointment that made his burns peel. He was almost positive he would be scarred to high hell if the Chinese unit member wasn't around, which was revealed much to Kyungsoo's pleasure, on a day where Number Four whispered into his ear that his name was Yixing and he had medicinal properties given by the gods--but for now, he was laying flat in agony. With a flash and trick of the light, Jongin was at his side, always appearing like a hallucination in the corners of Kyungsoo's eyes.

He walked up to the bed and observed Kyungsoo's condition, sucking air through his teeth. 

"Chanyeol-ah did this?" He asked. "What the hell is wrong with him? Why doesn't he hold back on you?"

Kyungsoo never knew why Jongin went out of his way against protocol to check on him after every combat training session, especially since he would basically talk to himself the whole time. On impulse, he let out an anguished sound and dug his head further into the cushion. It was useless to complain, but he was on the end of his tether. The taller sighed and sat on the mattress, facing outward into the medic's room. They weren't the only boys there--but no one snitched in Exodus. Not in a place like that. Jongin could teleport around the others as much as he wanted as long as a white coat didn't see, and much to Jongin's credit, they never did.

"You always end up in here, and he's always in fine condition. Why do they heal him faster than you? What's with the special treatment? I don't understand why he does their bidding at all. He used to never be like that."

"Exodus has favorites in every unit. It's how they create their hierarchy." A voice replied from in the darkness. It was a boy in an adjacent bed, sitting up as a mere shadow in the gloom. It was Number Twenty One, with the power of lightening. Kyungsoo had fought him before, and had nearly broke the other's spine in a close match. He was the only opponent that smiled a fractured smile and helped Kyungsoo up after the battle, a signature curve gracing his mouth at all times.

"Jongdae." Jongin threw into the air. He then stood back up, "What happened to you?"

"The usual. Got an ice shard in my side and a shitty headache from getting a concussion. Maybe six concussions." He nodded to Kyungsoo, "Chanyeol-ssi turn you inside out, Number Twelve? You look like a layer of skin got cooked off."

"Shut up. He's suffering and all you can do is make a tasteless joke?"

Jongdae chuckled but it fell a little short at the end. Resting his back on the frame, he stared at Kyungsoo with an unfocused yet satisfied look. "Sorry. What else can we do? It gets me to me. I'm tired of the medic's room. I'm tired of Exodus."

"We'll get out of here." Jongin said grimly. "If you let it get to you, you'll never leave."

"It's been about, what, four _years?"_

"We'll get out of here!" Jongin reiterated with a tense shout. It echoed down the hospital vault in a weak cry.

Jongdae seemed stunned by the act, and as usual franticness was seen on Jongin's face. His entire being. It made Kyungsoo think about when he said, dejectedly, that he couldn't understand anyone giving up on being free, even if it meant pain. It was when Jongin and Kyungsoo were opening their letters from home together on the dorm floor, and he had cried seeing his mother's handwriting. Kyungsoo had cried when he was forced to write back that everything was fine, and that they were learning more than they ever would in school. Exodus went through every letter, like they did everything, to keep the ignorance in place of truth. Each parchment was stained with the tears of liars on puppet strings.

He wasn't sure he ever saw Number Twenty-One cry like that, or show any vulnerability other than subtle sympathy for those like Jongin. He was a boy that never quite rebelled like Baekhyun did, but he also would never attempt to seek refuge within the white coat's embrace. To him, surviving was enough, and everything Exodus was built on was going to be their home forever. The thought scared Kyungsoo, and it absolutely terrorized Jongin.

"I've already given up on leaving this place," Jongdae told the smaller shortly after he met him. It was that sentence that helped Kyungsoo really get to know him as a concept, and a contrasting entity within the unit.

He was one of the others that came with Kyungsoo and walked with him in Yixing's garden. He walked with him in the yard and down the verandas and balconies, even when it was raining or the briskness was just below overbearing. Jongdae was open like a sunflower, and he was perplexedly optimistic, despite the words he had said upon meeting. When they sat on the brick platform that Kyungsoo used every break, he would just smile in content acceptance. He would also give Kyungsoo his leftovers, and say things like: "How can someone in charge of strength be so small? Eat so you can grow." It would earn him a jab in the ribs, but there was no malice, even when they followed up in the combat arena. Every-time, it ended with a helpful hand up and a raised lip. Jongdae had no passion for anything besides simple pleasures, and the shallow happiness that came with waking up and feeling the sun outside.

Jongdae was just as strong as Chanyeol, and Kyungsoo labeled them similar for an unknown reason, though Kyungsoo knew they were probably only alike in their aura and overwhelming energy. Their contrast, is what made Kyungsoo realize trauma lived inside people in ways that were incomprehensible. 

It was in the way Chanyeol visited the highest peak of the building to bathe in the sunset and watch the birds fly in clusters, just to pummel another boy into the floor for a false promise by a white coat. While Jongdae would pluck a flower from Yixing's garden just to laugh so loud it hurt, and never wish for more than what was in that moment. Kyungsoo never felt like he related much to either of them in the way they lived between the seasons of Exodus, whether it was happy nihilism or controlled naivety. Wrath and Sloth. It was also in the way that Chanyeol, after years of white coat praise and loneliness, invited Kyungsoo up to the third story. 

"The eagles are back." He said, hands tucked inside his pockets.

The smaller stood still, trembling in the high winds as they made it to the top steps. Chanyeol had felt colder than ever, for a boy who was blazing red fire and warrior made. In their last moments, it had been a warning of some kind. The result of a boy who still had something imaginary to cling to. He turned to look at Kyungsoo, "The white coats say that the media is onto them. I hear them talking about it a lot. They think that there's a mission going underway, and that they're going to be exposed. A lot of them have quit already."

Kyungsoo stared silently at him, wondering whether he was waiting for an apology from the universe, as the taller suddenly snorted and shook his head, grazing his sullen eyes back over the fading light. He eyed where the old nest used to be, where it had been built and dismembered many times through the decade and Kyungsoo felt his heart shrink. Chanyeol was beautiful, no doubt. Age a mere mask over the child inside. Kyungsoo didn't see any birds.

"They want me to destroy everything. They want me to burn it all to the ground for them. With all the boys inside. They want me to help them get rid of all ten years of the Exodus institute, Kyungsoo-ah." He said, "When you suffered from all those burns I gave you, sitting in the medic's room all those years. Did you ever think you were going to die by my fire?"

"No." Kyungsoo whispered. His voice was hoarse from disuse, but it was yanked out of him in a bout of unvarying grief.

"Well, you're all going to die by my fire. All of you. It's the only way." The threat landed half-heartedly as the taller reached into his coat sleeve to retrieve something. It was a photograph. The one of his family, and the one where him and his sister look like mirror images of each-other. He stared down at it for one final time before handing it to Kyungsoo, "They told me I could go home."

It was contradictory, but Kyungsoo knew what he had meant. Those words were haunting.

As Kyungsoo walked down the steps, he was met with the emotion of something utterly displaced, akin to the fleeting lightness of hope. He tucked the picture in his slacks and went back through the hallway, pondering the notion that maybe Jongdae felt bad for those like Chanyeol, too. Those people who didn't realize there was freedom in loyalty. That there was a way out of dying for those who never cared for you. He wasn't sure if Chanyeol ever believed what he preached.

It was dark by the time Kyungsoo and Jongin arrived to the scene, pushed far into the woods, the trees were interlacing with barbed wire and chain-linked fence. As he pulled off to the side of the dirt and parked, it was silent. The headlights emitted the only line of vision outside the vehicle. Jongin undid his seatbelt, "There has to be a hole in the fence somewhere, right?" He said as he put a readied hand on the handle. 

"You don't think there's cameras?"

"Who knows? But if they catch us, they'll feel like the assholes in that equation. We're the victims of this place."

"You seem kind of excited." Kyungsoo was jittery as he turned the keys and switched it off, letting it rumble to a stop.

Jongin laughed as he exited the car, "I'm just ready to see this place reduced to rubble."

His words disappeared into the wind as they walked, aimless at first, pushing away wiry bramble and unveiling layers of straight trunks. The moon was nowhere to be seen, and the earth seemed to be enveloped in a thick darkness as they began to travel downward into a ravine, the light from Jongin's phone leading them in two feet of illumination. Kyungsoo almost thought they would get lost, yet there was a nagging feeling that he knew exactly where the corpse of Exodus laid. Jongin must have known too, because minutes later they reached another backstop of chains and spikes.

The taller shone his phone up at the top, "It's past here. It has to be." He said.

"You want to walk around it and try to find an opening?"

"That might take too long." Jongin shook his head, barely visible. He then reached out and hooked his hand in the crook of Kyungsoo's underarm. "Can I try something? I think it would save us a lot of time."

Before Kyungsoo would reply, an intense tingling began to shoot from where Jongin's hand was. It was like his nerves were alight, making his knees wobble for a fraction of a second, before his vision went blurry--and they were falling into more vague shapes of undergrowth. There was a lightness in his muscles as he sat up in the murk, coughing and brushing leaves off his shirt, Jongin moving next to him as an obscured figure, his grip on Kyungsoo now gone and replaced with leftover prickling. He then rose up with his phone blinding the smaller as he scanned it over his body, smirking.

"Jongin-ah, what the fuck was that?"

"I got us closer down the hill." He stated simply, as if nothing had happened. He reached a hand down to help Kyungsoo up.

Taking it with disgruntled hesitance, he was pulled onto his feet. His head was spinning, "Did you just...teleport us?"

"It felt appropriate. No one could see." Jongin started to walk again, taking the light with him. From the way his legs were moving, Kyungsoo could tell it was hard on his body. Feeling bewildered, he followed so he wouldn't be left in the abyssal black. The casualty of what just occurred concluded that there was nothing too strange between the two of them, and what they shared was most likely on the verge of something catastrophic--but there was only the sound of crunching sticks and dried leaves as they were engulfed by the night. Woes silenced by anticipation.

Abruptly, the build up became a reality, because in the distance where was the bones of a unit building, broken and deteriorating. There was pieces of wood and brick strewn in the rural briar, framed by the significance of what used to be walls, cracked and barren on the dirt. Memories flashed before Kyungsoo's eyes. Disappearing faces. The scent of Yixing's garden. Screams and the sounds of the white coat's voices blurred into a static before being replaced by him letting out a heavy exhale. Jongin stopped and held his phone flashlight up, emitting eerie shadows over the debris of Exodus, making the rubble look like a painting of apocalyptic privation. He could imagine him and Jongin walking the yard numerous times in their uniforms, hair long and scars deep over their skin. Instead, Jongin still had his Rolex on, and the comedic twist of modern living emanating off of his back. As they slowly unlocked their legs to walk deeper inside, the more bits of the institutes skeleton poked from the Earth in ribs of sheet metal and wreckage. If he closed his eyes, he could almost smell the nostalgia of smoke. 

A sickness washed over him as he stepped over what used to be the patrol tower, now just planks and glass covered in soil and years of neglect.

_Why had he come here? Why would he ever come back?_

Jongin had wandered the other direction towards the dormatory, but Kyungsoo didn't want to look inside the empty rooms. He wanted to leave. 

"Jongin-ah." He called in a small voice. In slow horror, he realized Jongin was smiling.

In a memory, he had seen Chanyeol smile the same smile as he sat in Kyungsoo's parents house, a year after the shutdown commenced. He was almost twenty one, tall and lanky, residing in a reclining chair that faced a window. The smaller had swallowed his fear and placed two cups of tea on the desk separating them. The latter took it politely, large eyes on display and holding a million words. He had a large, gnarled scar that was visible on the side of his neck and ear, deforming it slightly. It had been difficult not to stare at it, and even harder not to shake in the other's presence. 

"Kyungsoo-ah, are you afraid of me?" He had asked sincerely. 

He shook his head, rubbing the sweat of his palms on the underside of his jeans. 

Chanyeol looked away out of the lucarne, "You still can't talk to me. Even after a year out of that place, you're silent." He sounded upset.

"I'm working on it." Kyungsoo muttered in a wobbly tone.

"We were friends at one point, right Soo? We used to be friends and look at the nest up in the tallest tree. You used to cry with me when we wrote our letters, and you'd share your rations with me. Remember when we used to prank the boys in the Chinese unit? You used to laugh so hard. It was the only time I heard your voice." His expression grew dark, "Other than the times you yelled out in pain when I'd almost kill you. Do you remember that too? Is that when you stopped looking at me? Is that when you'd shake just at the sight of me, like now? I want to know how you feel about me: the traitorous Number Sixty One, who did the white coats bidding for a false promise of freedom. How do you feel about a monster like me?"

"You...were a victim." the smaller couldn't contain the tremors through his body at the sound of Chanyeol's misery. He stared at the floor, "You had no other choice but to burn Exodus down. They forced you."

"No." Chanyeol interrupted, making Kyungsoo shudder. "I wanted to burn that shithole to the ground. I wanted it erased off the map, with all the memories I had tied to that place. I wished everyone and everything would be destroyed so that I could die knowing Exodus was no more. I wanted to die without every remembering what I put everyone through."

"If you wanted everyone to die, you wouldn't of warned me that day."

"Three units died in the fire that day. How many lives was that? Hundreds?" He was crying, yet his face hardly moved from it's stoicism. He still had the tea in his hand, "I'm a murderer. I'm only free because of people like you, who never held me accountable because of the abuse. So I'm asking you, now that you've let a killer, a man who wields destruction, into your home...how do you feel about me?"

"I feel bad for you." Kyungsoo said simply. "But Exodus is gone."

"Kyungsoo."

Tears were stuck to his face in wet lines, matting hair to his cheek and giving his face a forlorn glow, as an agonizing grin began to move his lips upwards. It was the worst expression Kyungsoo had ever seen. He finally ripped his gaze from the window and buried his head in his large hands, letting out sounds that could either be the wails of crying, or laughter. "The one good thing I did in those ten, torturous years, was burn it to the ground, and take a few white coats down with it. I don't deserve to feel any kind of happiness now, but I cant help but feel..."

The smaller was beginning to feel fearful of the other all over again.

The boy peered up with bloodshot, weary, languish. "...thankful." He finished.

And now, Kyungsoo was standing in his handiwork. Chanyeol, who wanted to be a hero, had let the blood on his hands tattoo itself into his soul. Though he was somewhere far from Exodus, living in a secluded cabin in solitude, bits of the blood were in the cooled embers of the asylum, now at Kyungsoo's feet. He wondered how many bones were among the wreckage, unidentified and stuck to the bottom of Jongin's expensive loafers as the taller walked towards him in the darkness.

"Are you okay?" He asked once close enough. It was a loaded question.

Kyungsoo nodded, gesturing around vaguely to the carnage around them both, "It's just a lot to take in."

"I know. It doesn't feel real, even now. This place used to be like, our home." Jongin kicked a piece of wood into the penumbra. He then shone the phone light on the floor near their shoes, "Now it's just fossils."

"And a cemetery." He whispered, the chill in the air finally creeping back in as the shock subsided into numbness. He mindlessly began to saunter through the old yard, which was overgrown and dry, covering all of the old brick seatings Kyungsoo recognized. Jongin was behind him, slowing down when Kyungsoo halted to a sudden stop at the sight of something. It was Yixing's garden, or what was left of it, feral and stalking up to the sky in long stems of muted green. A few blossoms were still peeking through, as if the light never stopped beaming down from heaven on the sacred plot of land. He picked up a discarded bulb from next to the fence. It was white and petite, most likely knocked down from the elements. It was the same kind of flower that Yixing would pronounce in Chinese, so they never knew the name of it, but they were Jongdae's favorite. The kind he used to pluck and dangle in his fingers as the gardener would scowl in mock anger, laughter ringing in the air. He could almost hear it. Like ghosts dancing in his head. Jongdae, like Baekhyun, seemed to always be a couple steps ahead of them in understanding the big picture. 

"Wow. Some of the flowers still bloom." Jongin commented as Kyungsoo handed it to him. He held it gently in his tanned palm, face contorting into a different kind of smile. One of awe and the love of miracles. He lifted it and tucked it behind his ear, "I guess not everything was destroyed after all."

"Yeah. It's amazing."

Kyungsoo thought about how Chanyeol could probably see a million eagles a year now, flying above him and creating little cycles of life in the forest he escaped to. He could live the simple life finally, the life where he could hold flowers in his palm and watch the sunset from his patio instead of from the rooftop of a prison. He wondered if Chanyeol knew that Kyungsoo let him in that day, to show him that not everything was destroyed. A small, white nameless flower could prevail through the ruin, and they could too, and they did. Through Chanyeol's fire, there was rebirth from the ashes, the way a phoenix rose of the terrene into nothing other than an bird that could travel miles a day in blessed exemption. Kyungsoo reached into his pocket the took out the picture of Chanyeol's family, to lay it flat against the roots of the flora.


	4. for the first time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is late. I tried to change things up a bit and I had trouble knowing what to do LOL.  
> regardless--I hope you all like it. I'm not sure if this is the end(?) or if i want one more chapter thats uplifting and showing the future. Either way, the flashbacks here are half the chapter but the most crucial part is the ending. :) The beginning is the way it is to show Kyungsoo's personal journey with recovery and healing, and how it lingers into who he is today and how despite all the help he has--he needs love! ^^

_\----_

_A couple months after the shutdown_

\--

Kyungsoo had not been surprised to find out what was wrong with him. Psychologists, psychiatrists and therapists had seen him left and right, through days and weeks and months, writing on their little notepads with nods and plenty of staring to make him feel small in his seat, and even smaller in his words. Cognitive behavior therapy, exposure therapy, psychodynamic therapy, eye movement desensitization and reprocessing informed him of all the ailments that partnered with years of straight warfare, the eyes of the healthcare professionals filling with pity and horror once he opened his lips for temporary amelioration. As he slumped into another version of a leather chair he knew all he could do was wait. 

"Mr. Do." A doctor would say gently, their posture lowered as if he was a frightened being, unpredictable and immure. "We have a prescription ready for you. Is the pharmacy you've previously gone to the one you still use currently?"

" _Yes_."

"Alright. We'll send it over." Then it was finished. A miniscule exchange, followed with the sounds of shuffling paper and the office door shutting behind his heels. 

He was used to it by now, the sensation of running headfirst into something invisible without knowing if there's danger, the sensation of utter fear and confusion and a cramp in his tongue that kept him from ever speaking out unless forced to. In Exodus, his words felt useless, and yet, too powerful all the same. Faced with routine no matter how malevolent, it still felt unusual being out of his dark blue uniform and using his vocal chords in a foundry outside of the walls. Which is why, he went through doctors like pages of a book. Each one either evoked some kind of discomposure in his body, making him tense and shaking under the warm-toned desk lights, surely locking his jaw in place. Or--they lugged a sort of eerie kindness, one that pinned their mouth into a half-moon and creased their eyes in empathic novelty. It reminded him of his mother, and that too, sewed his mouth and trapped the words deep in the back of his trachea. It was later in his time of searching and continued diagnosis, that he was compelled to speak more than a few words, which was the first time he was given his results.

An older man had given him the information, and Kyungsoo remembered the day clearly. It was the middle of the afternoon, with the sky giving off an sunless cloud that shielded the tops of the skyscrapers, and his mother had wrapped a maroon scarf over his neck and chin and insisted on coming with him. He hadn't refused, and she was there when the doctor came through the side door and asked them to come inside. He had asked them to sit down, and with a face of bleak neutrality, told Kyungsoo he had PTSD, extreme anxiety and paranoia. His mother visibly shrunk into herself and let out a weak noise, but he just blinked in the face of infallibility and gave the man a nod. A heavy pit lodged itself into his lungs for a split second, making it a little difficult to breath, but he swallowed it and trained his eyes on the wrinkled hands framing the sheet. The sheet that determined his future by a few black spots of ink and a signature.

Kyungsoo was not surprised like his mother had been, but maybe she wasn't either. She could have just been sad or thinking of all the things she learned through his alarmed behavioral specialists. It was impossible not to notice that he could hardly focus on mundane things, like chores or basic functions like cooking or shopping. The mundane did not live with him in Exodus, and neither did fragrant shampoo or warm sheets. His memories attacked him in random spasms, beginning from when he awoke to when he would lay down to sleep, undeterred by the case he could hardly recall anything in Exodus when he tried to chase the images away. He was also sure, and positive, his parents were aware of his rising anger and irrational defensiveness in those episodes of anamnesis. Uncontrollable fire that scorched like the flames on Chanyeol's fingertips, the very same that shot him up into the night with a scream and a hallucinatory attempt to block heat. So indeed, he could not pretend to be shocked that his mind was broken, and to heal it he would have to cooperate and in turn: speak. If it wasn't for himself, it would have to be for someone else. For his parents, and them: the nine that made it out. 

"Am I getting...medication?" He wondered, throat raw. His mother had sat up at his fuss.

"We would recommend that you start with anti-depressants, or something that will calm you down when you start to feel worked up. If it works we can start you on a steady prescription. If it doesn't, we can change the dose or try a different kind. It's completely personal." The man said with his brows lining together that created an intricate map of lines in his skin. He kind of resembled a man like his father, like he said words on auto-pilot. He was sitting against the arm of a chair across from them, "PTSD changes your brain chemistry, it alters the part of it that controls and holds your memory. From the scans you let them give you awhile back, its evident that all the turmoil you've gone through has taken your mind and body through a number. I wouldn't normally endorse medication, but in this case I feel it could really help you. It will take your body some time to get used to having it in your system, but it shouldn't cause any major side affects. Any questions Mr. Do?"

Kyungsoo twiddled his thumbs between his knees and avoided the nervous leer from his mother, "Could I have something for insomnia, too?"

"All that is covered as well. We have Sertraline and Prazosin for you to pick up. I'll call the pharmacy as soon as you leave the office so that it's an easy affair." He informed with a soft smile. Kyungsoo couldn't fathom how he was smiling out of anything other than courtesy or sympathy, but said nothing else as his mother bowed and took the paper, following Kyungsoo out of the double doors into the Seoul streets.

The medicine helped to some degree, Kyungsoo thought. It numbed some of the pain and could delay him from spiraling into a panic attack, keeping his breathing low and steady as he moved through the days. As much as it improved parts of him, other areas were still lacking behind. His weight was still not improving, and it seemed that no part of his body longed for food. He looked as skinny as he did when he was in the institute, possibly worse. His pallet didn't know how to handle the taste of anything other the bland piquancy of Exodus's cafeteria. Picking at his bowl of rice and chicken, his mother reached over and put a hand over his own resting on the table. His father, like _most_ dinners, was nowhere to be seen.

"Do you want me to make you some soup, dear?" She asked with a squeeze.

"Ah, sure."

"If you can't eat a large meal I have no problem making you something smaller."

Kyungsoo stared down at where her frail hand was touching him, "Thank you, mom." He whispered.

The soup tasted like salt, and he went to bed with his stomach full and mind hazy.

It was soon after, he would be sitting in group therapy. In a white room, _off-white_ , like it was meant to seem clean and not a place for the disturbed. There was a large painting of roses on the wall framed in copper and high up, a pop of color in the echoing dome. As daylight illuminated the space and made everything all too bright, the therapist would be sitting there with their hands folded, grinning. There were a few others sitting around in a circle varying in age and unstated reasonings to why they were there, all slouched and avoiding eye contact with eachother. Kyungsoo was sitting in the center facing the menacing painting with his whole front, eyes naturally gravitating up to the blossoms as the specialist spoke pliable contention. It felt like a lecture, and the only thing keeping Kyungsoo awake was his persistent tapping foot and social jitters. 

"Why don't we go clockwise and introduce ourselves?" The therapist cooed. It brought Kyungsoo's eyes back from the art piece and sent his foot tapping like never before. A young boy off to the side glanced down at it for a second, but quickly turned away before Kyungsoo could see what his face looked like. He was cloaked in a midnight hoodie and his long legs stretched down past everyone elses. 

He couldn't remember all of their aliases, but he kept his attention on the boy in the black, a part of his brain wallpapering images together, desperate to recall the individual. Due to instinct, he began to list the boys in Exodus in his own version of role-call, their names replacing the ones spoken by his group therapy cohorts.

The stranger opened his lips, which were thin and flat, and hesitated.

"Oh Sehun." He stated.

Kyungsoo swore his leg was beginning to create a scene with it's ticking. He was rigid until the attention diverted to him.

"Do Kyungsoo."

Sehun pivoted his way once more, and he could spot just the glimpse of his sly eyes, black and tired under the shadow of the hood. Time moved without them and the rest of the patients threw out their names. It was greeted with weak clapping and silence.

The therapist paid no mind to Kyungsoo's steadfast nervousness and instead stood up, turning her chair around as she walked around it. She then sat down again, straddling it with the backrest facing them, "We have a few newcomers today in our session and we welcome you. Getting help is a big deal, and we are not here to judge you in any way. This is a safe place. No matter how big or small you think your troubles are, they are all valid here."

More clapping commenced, and Kyungsoo put a flat hand over his knee to keep his leg still.

The first session seemed to fly by with his new attained knowledge, and when it was wrapped up they all rose to gather their things and depart. Sehun couldn't seem to keep his glances subtle as Kyungsoo lugged his bag over his shoulder and followed the crowd into the lobby.

"Hyung." A nasally, sweet voice sounded from behind him as he pushed through the door. He whirled around, unknowingly shaking in the wool of his sweater. Oh Sehun still resembled the boy in the navy suit, except taller, less lanky and much more prevalent in holding his shoulders outward instead of inward. His chin pointed into the shape of a ivory heart, and Kyungsoo could see his lips quiver in the wind as the door remained open. He swallowed, "Do you remember me? Kyungsoo-Hyung?"

"I-" The smaller stuttered, imagining him as a child, wielding wind like a protective cape. _Number Ninety-Four_. He forced a tight-lipped smile, "Of course."

Sehun didn't look convinced and followed him out of the building in reposed tension, hands shoved into his pockets as Kyungsoo led them off to the side. They stood by a large pool of potted roses resembling the one taking up a quarter of the previous chamber. It was sunny, and Sehun swiped the hood off of his head to reveal black bangs and pressed brows; He was lovely, even under the mask of lethargy and jaded adolescence. He truly was only a teenager.

They were still for minutes on end. It felt eternal--but eventually it was broken by Kyungsoo's phone ringing.

"Hello? Mom?"

"Is it over? You didn't text me to pick you up so I had to make sure."

"I-It's over." He peered over to where Sehun had leaned on the cement casing, surrounded by roses, frowning. He felt dizzy and turned away, "I dont need a ride right now. I think...I have some things to talk about with the therapist. About scheduling and stuff."

"Oh!" His mother audibly smiled, "I see. I'm glad your first session went well. Just call me when you're ready...I suppose."

"I will." He said, reciting a goodbye and swinging back around to make sure the boy was still there. He was.

"Do you want...to get coffee in the lobby and talk?"

Sehun blinked at him and pushed off the platform, nodding, "Yes."

There was even more silence as they returned inside the building and made their way to the cheap coffee maker, filling cups and finding the closest couch to the built in fire place. A secretary and a couple business employees filled the space with idle conversation and pacing feet, but otherwise they were alone. Kyungsoo found out the fire inside the chimney was fake, emitting no warmth, as he sat on the leather cushion and balanced his cup in both his trembling hands. He hoped the other didn't notice.

Sehun set his steaming drink on the side table, "So...I guess we go to the same group therapy now. What are the odds?"

"Maybe doctors have a special recommendation for Exodus refugees." Kyungsoo joked. It held itself with an air of forced humor.

The boy chuckled regardless, eyes glued to the way the smaller's lips quirked up, "I've never heard you joke, Hyung. It weirdly suits you."

"It was a pretty sad joke."

"Still, Hyung." His face then fell into a genuine simper, "It's also..."

"Strange hearing me talk so much?"

"Hearing you talk at all...it's a blessing. Truly. I never thought I'd be able to."

"It's difficult." He left it at that, choosing to drink the poor quality coffee. Sehun hadn't touched his.

"I get that. I was pretty quiet too. I'm better now, but sometimes I freeze up the same way I did back then. But--Hyung, I'm sorry. I bet you didn't come here to talk about the past. Those memories...it's hard not to think of them when I look at you. I know you're probably trying to escape the past...I shouldn't have said anything about it. I'm sorry." The boy gushed, eyes wide with panic and grappling with Kyungsoo's subdued surprise. He then leaned away and hunched over his long legs for a moment, sighing, "I'm usually good at not speaking about it. I just neve expected to see another face from Exodus. It's jarring. I don't know what to say. I don't even know why I made a big deal about seeing you."

Kyungsoo kept his mouth at the edge of the Styrofoam to preserve himself, "You can't just erase ten years." He heard his own voice say in the midst of their chaotic duality. Sehun had red-rimmed eyes as he sat back up and dug a rosary out of his hoodie opening, dangling it between his fingers. Kyungsoo wasn't sure why he had said anything like that to begin with.

"I know that. That's why I have this." The cross gleamed under the foyer lights, gold and glinting over the angles of the crucified statue. Sehun tucked it back in, "I've tried it all, I've made so much progress. I get help and I pray and...I do all of it. Everything I'm supposed to. Your face just...sent me back. I'm sorry, Hyung, really, It's a lot." He lurched like he was about to leave, but instead he just stayed bent over, contemplating. Kyungsoo had the fleeting fear he would be sick on the Aztec carpet. He then rose again to take the rosary necklace back out and enclose it between his fingers, "It's a blessing you're here. I'm glad I saw your name in the headlines where it said you survived. You and Yixing and Jongin..."

"I'm glad you're here too." He wasn't sure what to say. Sehun embodied his own thoughts, with a personal spin of religious uncouthness and trustful elation. He drank from the cup again, tasting nothing and feeling nothing hit his stomach, "Don't be sorry."

"I've been going to this specific therapist's office for a long time. Every day I wondered if I'd see one of you guys walking through the door. It actually happened. I always thought about what I'd say. About how I'd lead a prayer and we'd celebrate living and second chances. Instead I'm crying on a couch in the lobby, next to a fake fireplace and cheap coffee."

"I guess in an odd way, that is celebrating." Kyungsoo said. "We can exist here, together. No matter how humiliating."

"Yeah." Sehun sniffed, "Even this is better."

"You can still lead a prayer if you want."

The boy straightened up, not once easing his grip on the golden cross chained to his neck as his eyes watered and left his lashes wet. Kyungsoo set his coffee down and copied his posture, hesitating to close his eyes. He didn't want to admit that he had the anxiety of seeing a nightmare resurface behind the ink-like black of his eyelids. Instead he saw Sehun, aged down, wearing grey-blue and bandaged up in white tape in his memory. The faith devoted Sehun was a result of the child trapped in Exodus with no faith at all.

Oh Sehun was one of the younger boys in the institute. He was small and petite and had an angelic face that with the proper nutrition would grow into a handsome man. He was like a little nymph, pointed and feminine as he sat on the brick or passed through the unit's dorm halls alone. Though he was hardly alone, since he was in the presence of Kim Junmyeon, a water elemental, _Number Seven,_ who never left his side unless against his will. They were roommates, and Kyungsoo thought they were brothers for the longest time, up until they reached seventeen, which was tad old to still be aloof and not know that Junmyeon and Sehun were actually _lovers_. 

'Love' was a forgotten idea in their mutual pasts. An untouchable notion that was only on the outside of Exodus, reserved for family, or the romanticized promise of marriage that was followed up with fairy-tales or cinema. There was no known love between men, between trauma-bonded children, that resulted in success. Not in their secluded view, and surely not in their environment of survival. It was either companionship, friendship, or a juncture of crippling loneliness and weakness that was shrouded in shame and closed lips. Kyungsoo had only known of brothers, until he was seventeen.

Junmyeon had given Sehun a kiss. It was in the yard, away from the Chinese unit area and more off to the side behind the watchtower. Kyungsoo was loitering in the garden before the sun was set and curfew was enforced, and he was watching the other boys retreat along with the daylight when he saw the two of them go the opposite direction behind the wooden pillars. With a craned look and insatiable curiosity he had spotted them, embracing and pressed together in passionate affection. He remembered the sensation of confusion that swelled within him, and he walked to his room with questions swarming in his mind. He thought nothing could pique his interest, let alone spark up his adrenaline at that point--until he saw love. 

Possibly, love was all around him in Exodus. Baekhyun's light helping Yixing's greens grow, Xiumin visiting him and sneaking him snacks after combat training, Jongdae's blinding smile and gifts of flowers, Jongin's caring gaze and protectiveness, and there--solidified in Junmyeon and Sehun's kiss. It was romance. Kyungsoo had no wisdom in romance. That was the foreign abstraction that made his heart beat with something other than wilt. He recollected when he had entered his room, and Jongin had been the only one there. It was a rare occurrence since he was always flittering about like a ghost.

"How was your nightly walk?" Jongin asked, focused on a book. Kyungsoo noted he must have teleported and stole it from a white coat.

He hummed a positive hum, sitting on his bed and toeing his shoes off. _Should he tell Jongin what he saw?_

"I-I-I saw..."

His heart was pounding, and he tried not to feel stared at as Jongin shot up and eyed him over the railing at the promise of words. His voice was immensely weak, and he resorted to miming the numbers instead. _Number Seven and Number Ninety-Four._

"Seven and Ninety-Four? Junmyeon-hyung and Sehun? What's wrong?"

Frustrated, he opened both his hands wide and mushed them together in a messy rendition of what he witnessed. In times like that, Kyungsoo wished he was able to articulate himself like normal boys had been able to. But Jongin, the everlasting angel, was always patient. 

He tilted his head, "They...fought?"

A head shake, more hand mushing. 

"Ummm, wrestling? Hugging?"

Kyungsoo groaned, eventually pointing his fingers in makeshift lips and pricking them against eachother. He peered up at Jongin on the top bunk in desperation. If felt silly to be so childish, but youthful ignorance was hard to avoid.

"Kissing?" He asked.

Kyungsoo nodded franticly. 

"Yeah. They do that. Ever since they were around sixteen, actually. You never noticed?"

He shook again, eyebrows furrowed and mind racing. _How was Jongin so nonchalant?_

”Does it bother you?”

That time, Kyungsoo hesitated. He wasn’t entirely sure what he thought. All he knew was that it was taboo, and there wasn’t anyone in Exodus that did that. A naive way to perceive such an outside world normalcy. He then uttered, "No."  
  


Jongin had leaned back and aimed a smile between the pages of his novel, "Good."

The flashback faded back into the white noise of the lobby, and Sehun was beginning to mutter a mantra under his breath as Kyungsoo clasped his hands together and remained quiet. He wondered why Sehun was being so secretive about the prayer, but didn't want to ruin the other's focus, and after a couple minutes, Sehun raised his head and opened his eyes.

"I hope you don't mind it being a personal message to God. I made sure to mention you." He said lightheartedly.

"I haven't spoken to him in a long time so I appreciate you giving me a shout out."

"You haven't?" Sehun's playfulness was gone, "How long do you think?"

"Years."

"I see." He looked offended almost as he got up and disregarded his coffee completely, "I guess we all recover differently." At that, he tucked his rosary and hands away with a sorrowful glint in his brown eyes. Kyungsoo probably should have lied. 

He was eyeing the exit, then, "Don't you have to talk to the therapist or something? She might leave if you don't hurry."

"I was lying. It was just an excuse to catch up with you." Kyungsoo said with hidden dejection. "If you're busy though, maybe another time we can-"

"No. I think this is....I think this should be the last time." Sehun was about to cry again. He remained so frail, swallowed by the skylight window's beams, "Like you said--you can't just erase ten years."

He left, and ten minutes after their coffee's went cold, Kyungsoo called his mother to pick him up, and mused about what happened to Junmyeon in the lonely reticence as he waited. He also asked himself why it was that everytime he spoke, someone was displeased. Maybe silence was the only way.

Kyungsoo had not been surprised to find out what was wrong with him. He was also not surprised to find what happened to the others. Though, remorseful as he was, it was never worth the ache in heart.

\----

_present_

\------

Kyungsoo and Jongin had left the residuum of Exodus shortly after they explored the overgrown garden. After he had put Chanyeol's picture down, their mirth burned out into exhaustion, and Jongin had held the underside of his arm and cast them away to the parked car. There was facetiousness in the way Jongin was suddenly teleporting like it was nothing, like it was impossible not to fall into old habits, even among the broken bricks of history.

He had spent the day garnering fragments of his past: his lost relationships, his offscouring of selfhood, the rousing of his lonely reality. As he regressed back into himself, he regressed back into the forgotten chasm of childhood and wistfulness.

"Done already?" Kyungsoo pined for the tingling in his body to stop. His brain was on overdrive already.

"Seeing it destroyed like that only brings so much merriment." Jongin said as the car door was unlocked, "I wanted to go before we both got panic attacks of some sort."

"You think we would?"

"We can always go back." 

Kyungsoo got in and shook off the cold, "I'm good."

A heavy smile followed by a quick slam of the door, "Thought so."

The ride seemed shorter on the way back from the lack of anticipation, though it could have been the fact it was pitch black outside as they slid across the freeway at a steady pace and an insurmountable number of questions. When Seoul was in view, the gleaming beads of magenta   
light, and minuscule orbs twinkled and winked gently as their brightness was drowned out by the vast realm of eternal glow. Towers scraped high, square holes sitting parallel from one another and emitting a ghastly yellow. The flickering and breathing utopia an electric current, sparking life in every shadow.

As usual, Jongin spoke first, "Do you want to get food?"

"Now? It's late." Kyungsoo didn't want to confess that eating was on the bottom of his list. He was closer to being sick.

"I know a really good diner that's close to the offramp. It's been a couple hours so I think we should eat."

"I don't know if I can be in the city and pretend to be normal after what we just saw."

"Then don't pretend. Let's sit outside and talk and have some comfort food." Jongin pushed gently as streets came into view through their windows.

People moved past- their silhouettes lit up arbitrarily from the radiance beyond. Cigarette smoke dancing with neon, fading away into nothing but trickling pink in the starless sky. The air was filled with unsuspecting laughter and chatter, voices coming from within the walls and from those outside of them, some muffled while others remain disruptive. Cars roared by, advertisements cried plangent over the sundry speakers around the city layout. Adulatory, disingenuous faces were strewn across billboards and gargantuan screens. The living souls unceasingly traveling to their destinations and carrying out their mindless banter. Kyungsoo felt disconnected from it all, but in that moment, he was grateful that Jongin was there. 

"Alright. Just give me directions." He gave in.

In secret victory, Jongin took out his phone and abruptly laughed. The sound caused Kyungsoo to peek over; The melody of their collected crowing was unmistakably the same as when they were kids, only now it bound with a steadfast burden. It was laughing on the brink of tears.

"My phone is dead. I used up my battery using the flashlight. I'm an idiot." He was waving his black screen around and let out a defeated sigh, though it's true sorrow was diluted by his apparent happiness that make his face rosy. He pocketed the device and shrugged, "I know the way, don't worry. Take a left up here and go straight. It's this hole in the wall place that sells greasy American food and plays loud music. I know it doesn't sound too appealing, but it's good and the patio is a nice place to sit."

Kyungsoo nodded and took them there, trying his best to match Jongin's seemingly collected attitude. He knew it was a facade, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

Soon the restaurant came into view; More gentrified in design, srrounded by touristy shops and boutiques littering the road. Though it wasn't crowded like he imagined, and he quickly got a parking spot that was right in front of the entrance. Jongin appeared pleased and nearly jumped out of the vehicle to go up to the window to grab a menu. As the smaller opened his door, Jongin was already ordering. He wasn't absolute on the impression that the world was moving so quick without him. Maybe Kyungsoo was just in a daze. Before he was even aware, Jongin had put in their orders and was dragging him off to an outside table made of plastic and wired steel. The seats were cold and the table was wore down from the weather, frost crystalizing on the exposed poles.

"I just got us some fries and milkshakes. You okay with those?"

"It's been awhile, but I do like diner food. It's _for sure_ comfort food, like you said."

"The best kind." Jongin rubbed his long fingers together for a sad excuse of warmth, "So, how are you feeling?"

"I feel...I don't know. What about you?"

"Really weird. It's like a mixture of giddiness and straight up nausea. I can't believe we did that."

Kyungsoo scoffed and realized he was sweating through the cold, "You teleported. Twice."

"You know what? It's liberating when you're not doing it for white coats--Ah, Exodus workers--old silly nickname. I still call them white coats in my head."

"They should be called devils, honestly."

"True. They should just be addressed as the worst of mankind. Crazy how the lingo we created as kids still stuck."

"It's only been, what, five years though? How would we break a ten year habit?"

"Exactly. Therapy and pills can only do so much." Jongin leaned his chin down onto his palm, looking elegantly miserable in the unflattering patio lights. "Sometimes, this life I live now feels like a dream."

"A dream? Isn't that good?"

"Well, it's not a nightmare. But it doesn't feel real sometimes. It feels fabricated. Like one day I'll wake up and be in that room with you and Chanyeol again."

"I get that. I think...I think I feel the same way. After I got out I had this disillusion that I could just contact you all and act like we were family. I was closer to you nine than...my own parents." Kyungsoo studied Jongin's side profile as the other turned to check the order number on the screen. He pressed his brows flat, "It took me so long to realize we all had our own lives. Not all of our experiences inside Exodus were the same, and when we were freed, we were still different. I had to see it firsthand to get it."

One of the servers came over and set down a tray with a quick nod, ducking away once Jongin smiled at them. The scent of the deep fried potato stirred his stomach up, and Kyungsoo had the alien urge to eat, as Jongin wasted no time and began to unwrap the bag and take the lid off the dipping sauce, "Well, I sure as hell didn't expect to see everyone turn out the way they did. How did you feel when you saw the way we ended up?"

"Honestly, sad." 

"You don't think any of us lead a happy life?" His mouth was full as he pondered out loud.

"Happy? I'm not sure. I know Jongdae got married. That's just insane to me." Kyungsoo shook the straw in his milkshake to loosen the frozen dairy. "I feel like that's all he ever wanted. He looks so well adjusted on social media. Always smiling."

"He was like that growing up too. It used to set me on edge how elated he seemed. I'm happy for him, though. Super happy. I would consider his life to be pretty good. Xiumin-Hyung too, because the last I heard of him he was getting hitched across the world."

The shake was overly sweet on his tongue and he placed it down, grabbing a fry to balance it out with salt, "Heard that too. Do you know what happened to Sehun-ah and Junmyeon-Hyung?"

It didn't feel right to talk about such deep things outside of a roadside diner, it beckoned shallowness and a lack of empathy for the gravity of what it all entailed, but their questions fell out like uncontrollable drips of an emotional faucet. The other's teeth were tucked away at his question, his demeanor shifting before Kyungsoo's very gaze like he shed a layer of his skin, tearing away more liability. He swallowed his food and stayed still, "Like...where they are now? Or what happened with their relationship?"

"Both. If you know."

"Well, they're both still in Korea. Seoul, even. Sehunnie is a part of this church group that helps people with trauma and abuse and stuff. Found a whole page about it on facebook, and he was in all the group pictures. He seemed happy. It's the only social media he has, though. To be honest I barely found anything on Junmyeon-Hyung, and it seems papparazi has been out of the loop too. I'm sure he's okay. A year ago an article said they saw him attending some college up north. He's probably just laying low to avoid media."

"I see. I actually...saw Sehun some time back when I was trying out different therapists. When he saw me he just...broke down." Kyungsoo dusted the salt off his fingers and rested his wrist on the table, face tensed in thought, "He approached me and I started talking to him like we were old buddies. It was my fault, I think. That kid is so young still. Exodus is probably so fresh in his head he couldn't handle seeing my face. It gave me a reality check."

Jongin was calculating something in his head and slowly stopped eating, "Hyung, that wasn't your fault. A lot of them just can't face the past."

"Then how come we can? How can we just eat food and laugh? How were we able to just...visit those ruins?" His voice was ample with debt. "Why are we different?"

"Because we did it together. When I first saw you again in that bar, memories came flooding back--but they weren't all bad. In fact, most of them were memories I had of you growing up. Your eyes and cheeks and stuff, and how you stayed short, and how when you smiled your lips shaped like a heart. I was just excited to hear your voice. My past was Exodus, and you were part of that, but you weren't _just_ that. You _aren't_ just that."

Kyungsoo flushed and went quiet, both of them just looming over the food with darting looks and thundering heartbeats. He parted his lips, wasting away all and every boundary, "How come Sehun and Junmyeon didn't stay together?"

Jongin responded automatically, "Some love can withstand pain and some can't. It's all different."

_Did we withstand it?_

"I should head home." Kyungsoo dropped the subject like it burned him, sounding depleted of all devote energy. Jongin found himself searching the latter's face for something, like an urge to stay. To not leave him alone. A flicker of softness, a smile. Anything. His insecurities berated him with fear he scared the boy away with his offhandedness.

"Stay here." He then begged, a whisper on his lips. It was a borderline inappropriate request, considering everything. The sudden entreaty made Kyungsoo freeze, but he swallowed the awe quickly and instilled a placid smile, round face weary under the moonlight. "I really don't want the night to end like this."

Those singular words spoken into the winter air carried a heavy chain of unworthy consequences. In the brief time they had conversed, Jongin knew far too little to initiate any sense of platonic intimacy with the man in front of him- and yet it flowed out of him with ease. It was in a completely different realm of intercourse with Kyungsoo. Between them, time felt limitless. The suggestive plea took away the childish reality that it was: _I don't want to be alone._

They ate in silence, and Kyungsoo drove them back to his parents house through the Seoul metropolis shortly after. Through the unlocked door, they tiptoed down the foyer into the adjacent bedroom. 

He turned on the standing lamp once they were safe, the bulb subtle and winking into an apricot tincture over the expanse, as they shed their outer layers without needed conversation. Jongin gazed around the room curiously at the overhanging renderings of Kyungsoo's family and infant self. Enumeration glinted in his eyes, hyper focused on one that delineated him as an innocent adolescent. Plush lips pressing in screened tenderness. 

The smaller gestured toward the bed, "Is this big enough?"

Jongin snapped out of his daze and eyeballed the blanketed space where he pointed, "It's fine." He muttered unconvincingly.

Kyungsoo tittered, and towed the hem of his shirt over his head, skin prickling from the stuffy exposure. "I sleep better with people. It took me a long time to get used to having my own space." He brokenly professed, "I used to sleep on the floor of my parent's room."

"Took me some time as well." Jongin was taking off his shoes, small back facing him as Kyungsoo shimmied under the blanket. 

He scooted over as the boy slipped under the sheet beside him, body heat muted by the leftover cold air. "I never asked if you live with your folks."

They both blinked up at the ceiling, hearts beating erratically. "Is it sad I'd rather be living with them?" Jongin cast out into the comportment, emphasis on his longing. "I stayed with my mom for a long time but once I profited off my book I ended just getting a place nearby. Still feels empty."

"Again, I'm sorry about your dad."

"It's okay. You have nothing to apologize for."

"Its hard not to feel sorry." Kyungsoo adjusted positions, their arms brushing for a flitting instant before it was removed and resting an inch away. "Thanks for today." He then filled the unoccupied space between them with his own bicep, sheath alight with contact. Jongin didn't move away and stayed silent as he kept going, "Thanks for meeting me and coming with me to Exodus. For everything. For buying the food and coming over. It means a lot."

"Of course, Hyung."

He swilled down the impulse to cry again, clenching his jaw down and grinding. It seemed to overflow out of him like a ruptured gate, out of his control.

With an exhale, "Let's sleep."

Exodus was nothing but an outlier that night, as the two boys nurtured their united wounds through knitted claws and nomadic trance, their hearts mirrored one another.

In his dream, they ambled into the serpentine expanse of the ocean, screaming from the chill and guffawing at the absurdity of it all. They danced in the swell, twirling in the plethora of seaweed and brine. Blood and tears. Pain and guilt. Happiness and hysteria. They held hands and treaded deep, so that everything below their waist was submerged and insentient. Chanyeol and Baekhyun joined them shortly after, quivering and effulgent under the setting sun. Xiumin, lambent and bright, watched with fond eyes as they were swallowed by the winter sea. Bonded in everlasting unity and mourning. Jongdae and Yixing were laughing and their teeth were stark white against the black. Sehun and Junmyeon were there out of sight, but he could feel them. He could feel them all. 

\---


End file.
